


got me seduced in fluent haiku

by I_think_the_fucknot



Series: let Richie be the cute one [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Eddie Kaspbrak, But whatever, Cute Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, First Kiss, Gay Richie Tozier, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Protective Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sexual Harassment, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, all im saying is that richie should be softer more often, i can't tell if i like this but whatever luv, i hate mark the waiter:(, i headcanon eddie as bi leave me alone, mature because they make out lol, this is the most self indulgent thing to ever be written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27548128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_think_the_fucknot/pseuds/I_think_the_fucknot
Summary: Richie is a beautiful person inside and out and Eddie thinks it deserves to be acknowledged.Stan has launched into a monologue when he finally decides to make his appearance. Mark is the absolute worst, and this assumption entirely revolves around his inability to take a hint. The one person who flirts more than Richie and he won’t leave him alone.Or: Richie's having a bad day and a creepy waiter won't leave him alone. this somehow leads to Eddie and Richie confesing their feeling for each other
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, The Losers Club & Richie Tozier
Series: let Richie be the cute one [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013685
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	got me seduced in fluent haiku

**Author's Note:**

> ok so I'll probably be doing a few more works in this series but I'm very ADHD and find it hard to start and focus on new projects, sorry! though I'm very excited to put effort into this!
> 
> TW/SPOILER: Mark the waiter kisses Richie without consent, and is all round very creepy so if that's triggering to you please don't read.
> 
> title from venus flytrap by feng suave

Richie has seemed nervous since Eddie first saw him in second period. He had stumbled into the classroom late, and after mumbling a jumpy apology, collapsed into his seat. Worrying his light purple sweater between his painted fingertips, his hunched over posture almost deterred even Eddie. But at the first chance he got, he lent forward and tapped Richie’s shoulder. Spinning around, Eddie would be a liar if he said he had expected Richie to look this rough. 

Every now and again Richie would have a bad day, when everyone set him on edge and he just needed to feel sheltered by his friends. Which they were all willing to do for him. Richie was an annoying bastard but one close to their hearts, everyone could admit they had a soft spot for their Trashmouth. 

But he looks exceptionally bad this Friday- which doesn’t mean he looks bad normally, Eddie quite honestly thinks the opposite, but the bags under his eyes speak for themselves. 

His usually energetic blue eyes like ghosts of how they once lived, but wide and skittish, and his pink cheeks look like someone drained the colour from them. His lips are missing their gloss, and his hair looks even more disheveled than normal. The collar of his shirt is lifted at one end and his knitted sweater is untucked at the front. 

Eddie still thinks he’s pretty, but what’s fucking new. His infatuation with Richie’s a growing issue that he will have to deal with sooner or later. 

But for now, he’s choosing later. He’s just not sure when later will get here. 

“What Eds?” Richie says with a laugh that’s an obvious lie. Eddie is suddenly hit with a wave of embarrassment, along with the realization that he could have been staring at Richie for any amount of time. He always gets stuck around Richie. 

“Why where you late dipshit?” He tries to deliver sarcastically, but it comes off as unsure, which is a little too close to home. 

“Oh, it’s uh, been a rough morning. I kind got too in my head about something and it threw me a bit.” He replies, more sincerely than expected, an honesty in his face that Eddie’s only seen a handful of times. But it disappears soon after, replaced by a cocky grin, and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not. 

“Why? D'you miss this pretty face.” Richie coos, fluttering his eyelashes and tilting his head, letting his hair cloud over his eyes in a way that’s supposed to be joking. But Eddie’s mind races with just a few of the buzz word he uses to describe Richie prettybeautifulcutegorgeousiloveyouiloveyou- he decides to stop that train of thought. 

“If that’s pretty, Henry’s a fucking Goddess.” Is what he says instead. The vision of their childhood bully in flowing silk robes all too tempting to resist. 

For a second, he thinks he may have gone too far, this is obviously one of Richie’s fragile days, but he just throws his head back in a genuine laugh that warms Eddie’s heart. Eddie always feels irrationally proud when he makes Richie laugh. But it is incredibly beautiful. Richie’s laughter was like a stone being skipped over a calm body of water, disrupting the serenity, but extremely satisfying in the way the ripples grew louder. 

“Damn Eds!” He says once he’s stopped, his eyes softening for a moment. When Eddie looks, he’s finally left his sweater alone. 

“Someone had to say it.” He replies, but the gleam in his eye and the crooked smile on his face is enough to assure Richie that he’s kidding. 

Richie looks like he’s gearing up to say something equally snarky, but he stops mid-sentence when from the front of the classroom, Mr. Cameron decides to interject. 

“Mr. Tozier!” Mr. Cameron hollers, voice carrying throughout the relatively quiet classroom. Well, had been quiet, but Eddie and Richie might have been speaking louder than they thought. 

Richie’s shoulders tense and his eyes widen slightly, and Eddie can feel his heart rate speed up in mere sympathy. 

“Y-yes?” He says, but he sounds as uncertain as Bill when Betty Ripsom asked him out. Eddie feels the need to pull Richie into his chest and... Set the dogs on Mr. Cameron- he hasn’t thought this situation through. 

“Do you have something to say?” The teacher asks in turn, like some smug Detective catching a suspect in a lie. Absolutely thrilled with himself. 

“Um, no I- no Mr. Cameron.” Richie stutters, shrinking in on himself while Mr. Cameron only seems more enthusiastic. 

“Really? Sure you didn’t choose to speak out of turn again?” He scoffs, and Eddie feels his fists clamming up against his sides, fingernails digging red trenches in the skin of his palms. Within the Losers Club, it’s well known that despite being famous for his big mouth, Richie often focuses his self-hatred on this feature. Which Eddie harbors some guilt over, certainly not doing much to stop this insecurity. 

“I’m sorry sir- We were just-" And he looks so scared, all eyes on him while he sits there and sweats. He swallows and glances to Eddie before turning back and focusing his eyes on his lap. Eddie can’t not help him. 

“We were just talking about how Awesome it is when teachers interrogate their anxious students in front of everyone.” 

A scattering of laughter washes over the classroom, and Mr. Cameron’s face squints in an unnatural way, before opening his mouth to reprimand Eddie for talking back. 

He has to stand outside for the rest of the period, but it’s entirely worth it to see that soft smile on Richie’s pretty face. 

Yeah, he’d probably do anything to see that look. 

Eddie finally sees Richie again when the school days already over. He had considered sending everyone a message to let them know that Richie’s having a rough time, but when he sees the protective manor they stand near him, he doesn’t think it would have been necessary. 

It’s almost funny how they’ve arranged themselves, a confusing muddle but one Richie definitely takes the center of. Unsurprisingly, Mike sees him first, grinning in that effortlessly charming way that only he can. He waves him over, and Richie’s head perks up to see who’s approaching, and it’s a little heartbreaking to see the pure relief on his face. 

“Well howdy Sir Spaghetti! What brings ya’ll ‘round these parts, huh?” Richie drawls in one of many signature Voices he’s accumulated. His smiles a little off kilter but his eyes are shining again, so Eddie counts it as genuine, which means it’s no cause for concern. 

“We meet here every day, asshole. Where else would I go?” He snaps, but everyone takes it as canon and continues their separate conversations. 

“Well, I don’t know, you might have- a mistress -! And you meet every day at sundown to finally get it on-" His tangent is kindly interrupted by Stan, who has apparently heard enough. 

“It’s not sundown.” Is all he adds, but Richie cackles anyway. It’s very endearing. Before anyone can lengthen the time they’ve spent waiting around, Ben speaks up. 

“We should probably leave now if we don’t want to rush.” 

To where, is the hole in the wall café that The Losers have made themselves locals at. A small under the table establishment, filled with the smell of coffee and old books. The place practically screams hardwood flooring, which is why Stan had excepted it as they’re new spot. The only downside being a certain waiter who refuses to stop hitting on Richie. It’s never anything outlandish, only passing comments or a hand to the shoulder, but it’s still uncomfortable. 

Usually this would be a completely deal breaker, but he only works some days and Richie says he doesn’t mind- going as far as to say that he thinks it’s funny- so The Losers have taken that to be true. However, it makes Eddie nervous thinking about Richie being in a situation he isn’t entirely happy with, and especially because this is a bad day, he’s considering vetoing the idea entirely. 

But before he can comment, Richie’s face lights up and swiftly agrees to get a move on. And Eddie wouldn’t dare bring his mood down. So off they go to The French Press. (Richie had made many a joke. None of which were funny. Eddie laughed, and he’s not proud.) 

When they arrive, Richie lingers at the back of the group, and it’s a little pathetic that Eddie knows it’s because he doesn’t want to be the one to open the door. When they walk in, they immediately head to their usual table, while Ben draws the metaphorical short straw and has to go up and order for them. Which isn’t that bad considering that Margo is a saint. 

Richie rummages around in his bag for a moment, before yanking out a sticker-covered laptop and a worn notebook. If Eddie has assumed correctly, he’s finishing his math homework. When he asks, he’s disappointed to discover that he was right. 

It’s moments like this when Eddie’s love for him grows, the times when he looks so soft and cute, something not everyone gets to experience. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his glasses slipping down his nose and the distressed curls that looks like they’d be so soft to touch. Richie is a beautiful person inside and out and Eddie thinks it deserves to be acknowledged. 

Stan has launched into a monologue about how despite loving birds, he refuses to acknowledge pheasants, when he finally decides to make his appearance. 

Mark is Eddie’s least favorite human, which is an impressive feat considering his relationship with his mother. If Mark were a flavor it would be hand soap, if Mark were a car he would be a tricycle, if Mark were a monster he would be a gremlin. Mark is the absolute worst, and this assumption entirely revolves around his inability to take a hint. The one person who flirts more than Richie and he won’t leave him alone. Today he’s wearing a plain black hoodie and jeans under his apron, and that alone makes Eddie wants him to leave, despite there being nothing wrong with that. 

“Hey Rich, what you got here?” Mark croons, and Richie’s face pales, spinning around in his chair to come face to face with him. He looks around the table desperately, but everyone’s either distracted (Bev, Stan, Mike and Bill) or don’t know what to do (Ben). In Eddie’s case, he’s found himself suck. Again. 

Richie turns back to his work and readjust his glasses. Mark rests his hands on the table either side of him, so Richie’s completely boxed in, and it makes Eddie want to scream. Richie’s shoulders are tensed, and his leg is shaking violently. 

“It’s- uh just my math homework.” Richie mumbles, his hands picking at his pen. 

“Are you stuttering, do I make you nervous?” Mark asks in an embarrassingly condescending tone, but Eddie isn’t sure who it’s embarrassing for. Richie’s eye twitches, as if to say yes, please just fuck off let me be happy, because I’m incredible and that’s what I deserve- ok, Eddie might be projecting. 

Richie throat bobs and his fingers tighten where he has them around his sweater sleeve. Mark chuckles lightly and moves his right arm a little closer to Richie. Eddie doesn’t know what has possessed Mark to be quite so bold today, but he has plans to personally exercise it. 

“No- it’s just the caffeine finally hitting.” Richie blurts, a fake laugh tacked on to the end just to confirm that he is, in fact, nervous. 

“Aw, really? I’m sure you’re tough enough to handle a little coffee. Maybe we could go get something a little different to coffee sometime?” Mark laughs, like he’s being funny, not awkward. 

“He’s fine, thanks.” Bill spits, finally noticing Mark in all his unwanted glory. Richie looks up at Bill from under his lashes and gives him a shadow of a grateful smile. Eddie wishes he could have earned that look. 

“Whoa man, I was just being friendly.” Mark rebukes, his eyes hardening and his left hand moving to rest on Richie’s shoulder, the other on the back of his chair. Richie looks so stuck it makes Eddie want to yank Mark away and throw him out the window like the weak, pathetic rag doll he is. 

“Actually, you were being creepy, he's not interested.” Stan maintains, with a cold delivery that makes it clear that the topic is not up for discussion. 

“What’s with letting these guys speak for you, Rich? Don’t want to disappoint them?” 

And that certainly peaks Eddie’s interest. 

“Look man, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but you should leave now.” Mike challenges, his eyes practically glowing with the want to kick Mark’s ass. Eddie relates. 

Mark seems to be gearing up to say something completely unacceptable when Margo shouts from the back room that she needs help with something. 

Mark spares a passing glance to everyone at the table. Stan with eyes full of ice that hurt to look at, Mike with clenched fists that could tear him apart, Bev with her shoulders squared like she’s ready to charge at Mark, Bill with his lips set into a hard line, Ben with his hands so tight around his mug that it might break, and Eddie, the furrow between his eyebrows being the only thing that sets him apart from the others. 

For some reason Mark pushes his luck. 

The hand on the back off the chair slides up until Mark's hand rests on the back of Richie’s neck, thumb rubbing up and down a few times. Then he straightens his back and strolls of to the back room. 

Eddie can’t believe he didn’t help Richie. 

Days prior, after a lot of good behavior and favors, Eddie had convinced his mom to let Richie stay over on Friday. Friday was of course today, meaning that Richie accompanied Eddie home, his mood eventually picking up. 

He thinks that there are some very definite pros and cons of the Mark situation kicking off that day. Pro: Eddie will be there to help Richie feel better, and he'll have the opportunity to ask what Mark had meant by ‘disappoint them'. Con: the visit will be more intense than their usual sugar fueled antics (they’re children at heart and that can’t be helped), but Eddie has ultimately decided that it’s a good thing. 

When they get in, Richie seems prepared to make a mad dash up the stairs to avoid Mrs. Kaspbrak and her inquisitive ways, but Eddie assures him that she’s out the house and will be until tomorrow. Richie visibly relaxes. 

Richie makes his way to Eddie’s room while Eddie goes to collect some of their favorite snacks (Sweet-Tarts, Dr. Pepper, Cheezits and Doritos. Eddie would usually condemn how unhealthy having all four is, but Richie’s having a bad day, so he deserves everything more than usual.) 

The assent up the stairs proves trying, his arms bunched together and crossed in effort to carry everything in one trip. When he arrives, he finds himself embarrassingly excited to put down the snacks, but instead he freezes at the door frame. Richie’s backpack and jacket are in a crumpled heap at the foot of Eddie’s bed, his glasses are half folded and look like they could fall off the bedside table at any second. Richie himself is sitting cross legged at the edge of the bed with his head hung low, his fingers are picking at his poor sweater again, and his shoulder are shaking sporadically. It’s the heartbreaking little sniffle he lets out next that snaps Eddie out of his trance. 

He hurriedly set the items down on his desk and crosses the room in a few quick strides, which is impressive considering his height. He throws himself on the bed next to Richie and reaches out to wrap his arm around him, but he hesitates. 

“I-is it ok if I touch you?” He asks, trying to come off as soothing but in the end, he just sounds unsure, which he is but he didn’t need Richie to know that. 

Instead of replying, Richie folds into Eddie’s chest, his head cuddled against his collarbone, thin arms wound tight under Eddie’s armpits. 

Oh god. Like this, Eddie could finally get a nose-full of that delicious strawberry-soda smell that follows him like a shadow, could finally find out if those raven curls are as soft as they look, could finally hold Richie as tenderly as he deserves to be held. 

Except he isn’t doing any of those things. But he really wants to, which overpowers his need to get stuck. 

Gently placing a hand on Richie’s head and his waist, he holds him to his chest, like he might have plans to go somewhere. Of course, Eddie knows that he doesn’t, but the thought of Richie leaving now scares him more than should be reasonable. 

They sit there, clinging to each other like drowning men to a raft, for anywhere between five minutes and one hour. Eventually, Richie’s shoulders stop shaking and his hiccupping sobs quiet, much to Eddie’s relief. Despite not wanting to, Eddie loosens his grip on Richie’s waist and pulls back slightly, forcing Richie’s eyes up to his own. And Eddie’s heart feels like it’s cracking. 

His face is red and splotchy, sweater rumpled and his lashes clumped together. His lips are red, like he'd been biting them to keep from making too much noise, Tears rest on his waterline like they’re desperate to fall and his hand is clasped tightly to the shirt covering Eddie’s chest. But what kills Eddie the most is that he still. Looks. Pretty. What the fuck. 

“W-hat’s wrong?” Is what Eddie stutters when he finally finds his voice, usually intense but now soft and gentle, like Richie’s a scared animal that might take off at any minute. 

“I-” Richie cuts himself off with a soft sniffle, blinking hard in an attempt to clear the tears from his eyes. 

“I was just…I- really hoped it would be you, s'all.” 

Eddie mind immediately supplies him with a million scary scenarios in which he hurt Richie, but the one that sticks is one from lunch. Mark’s hand, Richie’s frightened demeanor, the rest of the losers having to step in, Eddie saying nothing. But he really doesn’t want to jump to that conclusion, so he asks instead- 

“What?” Which is maybe not the most tactful way he could have handled that but, Richie is practically in his lap, so he’s going through some fierce emotions right now. 

“It’s just that…” Richie starts, but he gives up and stares into Eddie’s chest and presses himself tighter into said boy’s arms. What Eddie wants to avoid is Richie shutting down, so he tilts his chin back up and let’s they’re eyes meet in a clash of ocean and honey. 

“S'okay, you can talk to me.” Which surprisingly comes out as calm as he wants it to. Richie pauses, eyes darting around for a split second before deciding to speak. 

“D’you remember what Mark said at lunch. Bout’ me disappointing you guys? S'about that.” He confesses, vulnerability in his face, like what Eddie says next could break him if he’s not careful. 

“Alright, do you want to talk about it?” Which Richie considers for a moment, before nodding, curls moving with him in a way that’s distractingly cute. 

“Um, on Tuesday- when you guys left the café early? Turns out Mark was working that day.” Richie stops to wet his lips, and even that can’t deter Eddie’s mind from going haywire. 

Oh Christ what did that fucker do I knew we should have just waited for Richie did he fucking touch him oh shit what if he- Richie continues talking, his voice somehow softer. 

“He started talking to me again, and it got creepy faster that it usually does- he…” Richie let’s out a little sigh, hand tightening its vice grip on Eddie’s shirt. 

“He- kissed me.” 

“Oh.” Christ, that is potentially the worst response to that. Eddie fumbles over his words for a moment, before remembering a conversation he had had with Bev. 

“I'm sorry Richie, that must have been awful. You- We could talk to Margo? See if she’ll file a complaint-" 

“No! It’s- not that big of a deal…” Richie insists, eyes looking panicked, which Eddie immediately feels guilty for. 

“Alright, but Rich, what he did is not ok and he should have asked. But if you don’t want to tell anyone, you don’t have to.” 

“It- it only- I just really hoped it would’ve been you- but I also wish he just didn’t do it at all.” Richie mumbles, hiding his face in Eddie’s chest and loosening his grip. But Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

“What'd you mean, would’ve been me?” 

Richie huffs, like Eddie asking has deeply inconvenienced him. He starts but pauses, taking a deep breath. 

“That you would’ve been my first kiss.” 

Which is a lot to unpack. Eddie’s first thought is why the hell wouldn’t anyone kiss Richie till now? But then… wait… 

Eddie has kissed people before, though it was never anything special nor something he would actively search out. The girl in his geography class wore far too much lip gloss, the boy from his track meet was too sweaty and the girl at the party Bev had dragged him to was far too drunk to make it pleasant. Despite these experiences not being particularly pleasant, he cannot for the life of him imagine a world in which no one has kissed Richie Tozier. 

He’s in the process of figuring out if this is actually happening when Richie seems to take his silence as rejection, so he pulls away and shuffles down the bed, and Eddie desperately wants to pull him back to his chest, like if he parts with that smell of strawberries he’ll fall apart. 

“M'sorry.” Richie sniffles, another wave of tears crashing over his lanky body. Eddie wants to say something, but he’s stuck. Which is typical at this point. 

“I- just really,” He hiccups “Love you. An' I-,” He hiccups again. “M'sorry, but- I wanted you to like me too.” And that’s all Richie manages before he lapses into sad little sobs. 

Eddie wraps his arms around Richie’s shaking form and pulls him into his lap. Because he really might’ve imploded if he hadn’t. 

Richie keeps his face distanced though, eyebrows bunching together in confusion, nose scrunching up and Eddie wants to kiss it. 

“What’re you doing?” He whispers, so quiet that he might just be speaking to himself, but Eddie replies. 

“Richie, I care about you so much, alright?” He says, voice so full of certainty that Richie just nods. 

“Richie, could I- would you want me to kiss you? Now?” Eddie asks, eyes darting down, waiting for Richie’s reply. Part of him can’t believe he asked it, but the other part doesn’t believe any of this is happening. Richie’s reaction assures him that it is. 

“No- cause’ you just feel bad for me. You don’t actually wanna.” Richie sobs, with so much determination that Eddie almost believes him. But he knows that it’s not true, and he need Richie to know that too. 

“No- Rich. I- I like you too. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.” He assures, brushing a stray curl out of Richie’s face, using that same movement to cup his face and rub his thumb across his cheekbone. 

Richie’s eyes make him feel like a liar, stone cold and heartless. But underneath that layer of frost, Eddie can see him for what he is, a scared little boy. And the intensity of that sight makes him feel small himself. 

“Do you- are you fucking with me?” Which is a sentence Richie would carry with energy, but not right now. Right now, he sounds as lost as Mike is tall. Very. 

“No Rich! I really mean it. And I would like to kiss you. But only if that’s what you want.” 

Richie’s face is blank, and Eddie is very much worried by this. Apparently, it shows, because Richie blinks a second later and speaks in a rushed but tired voice. 

“Sorry it’s- just a lot right now. At once.” He rushes out, like he’d ever need to explain. 

“I know, M’sorry Rich.” Eddie soothes, squeezing his hand reassuringly were it rests on Richie’s hip. 

They sit there for a moment, the air growing thicker and thicker with nerves from both parties. Eddie feels his heartbeat so hard he’s sure there must be bruises on his chest, and he can’t be sure that Richie’s even breathing at this point. Eventually, Richie’s eyes flicker up to his head still tilted down. He clears his throat and lifts his head. 

“Yeah, if you mean it.” Richie smiles lightly, his face clear of worry and in its place a bashful hope, it makes Eddie smile too. He takes his hand from his hip and covers Richie’s own where it rests on his thigh, the other resting on Richie’s jaw, his face so soft that Eddie could cry. He almost does. 

“I really, really mean it.” Eddie whispers back, his usual higher pitch seeming to have dropped an octave, and it carries through the room like a jug of water being spilt on the floor. 

Richie’s smile brightens even further, and he lift his fingers to curl around Eddie’s shoulder, blurry red lines dotted over the back of his wrist from leaning all of his weight on it. 

“Then you can kiss me.” 

Which Eddie does, he kisses him like an apology he needs to make, like a confession of love. As deeply as he needs air, Eddie Kaspbrak kisses Richie Tozier. And he kisses back. 

Their lips brush together gently at first, both scared to hurt the other, but Eddie can taste the strawberry tart Richie had at The French Press and all worries fly out the window. He presses closer and let’s his lips move tenderly against Richie’s, who gasps softly, lips parting smoothly before trying to mimic Eddie’s movements. Eddie feels slightly grateful that Richie isn’t wearing his glasses, because despite how cute they are, it wouldn’t be very comfortable to feel the cold metal digging into his face. 

Eddie wraps both his arms around the boy in his lap's waist and pulls him impossibly tighter, Richie’s thighs slipping over Eddie’s till he finds himself straddling him, making Richie whimper, and it would concern Eddie if Richie didn’t thread one of his soft hands into Eddie’s chestnut hair, scratching lightly at his scalp every time their lips reconnect. With every passing second Eddie feels himself growing bolder, and when Richie let’s a muffled moan escape him, Eddie brushes his tongue along the seam of his lips, and Richie opens his mouth to him, sighing gratefully when he feels Eddie’s tongue slid against his. 

Eddie’s fingers brush against the hem of Richie’s tortured sweater but he hesitates to slip his hand underneath. He breaks the kiss despite Richie’s wine of protest. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks a non-threatening tone, trying to make it as clear as possible that no is an acceptable answer, and Richie feels his lips turning up into a grin. 

“Just under my shirt.” Richie replies, eyes sparkling with happiness, lips formed in a gorgeous smile, and Eddie smiles back just as happily, reconnecting their lips and bringing his hand to cup Richie’s cheek. 

Eddie slides his hands gently under his knitted shirt lets it rest on his ribs, and if Eddie thought his face was soft, this was another level. Richie tugs on Eddie’s shirt just as he lets their tongues meet again, and Richie’s rolls them over till Eddie’s resting above him, hiking up his shirt. 

Just as Richie starts to claw at Eddie’s shoulders, the bedroom door burst open and Eddie sits back so violently that he topples over the other way and lands in an embarrassed heap on the hard floor, where he can still hear Richie’s noise of surprise. At what he can’t be sure of anymore. 

Bill stands in the doorway clutching Eddie’s jacket so tightly that his knuckles are almost as white as his wide eyes. 

“O-oh m-m-my God-d! I-I’m s-s-so s-s-s-sorry! I ju-s-st h-have y-y-your coat a-nd. I'm s-s-sorry.” Bill stammers, eyes flickering across the two of them, in disbelief of what he saw. 

“Just leave it on the dresser!” He squeaks, voice about three octaves higher than normal. And Bill blinks dumbly before springing into motion. 

“R-right! S-sor-r-ry! Uh, Con-ngr-rats!” And with that Bill throws the coat on the dresser and bolts out of the Kaspbrak house. 

Richie sits up and sighs, staring down at Eddie with a small playful smile. 

“They’ll all know within the next hour. Won’t they?” Richie chuckles, tone indicating that he is very much okay with them all knowing. 

Eddie smiles back up at him, absolutely enchanted by him, 

“Without a doubt.”

**Author's Note:**

> well, wasn't that just a little out of my comfort zone. 
> 
> like i said i hope to make this a series and i already have new ideas for other fics!


End file.
